share my relief with her, but I held back.
‘I haven’t asked Miss Ferrier yet. I wanted to talk to you first, but I will talk to her today.’
‘Well, you do that, Jackson, and tell her I would be happy to meet her. What about your mum, what does she think about it?’
‘She’s cool,’ I replied. ‘She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea at first, a bit like you, but she said I should take responsibility for my own decisions. She’s that kind of a mum.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting her. She sounded really nice on the phone.’
I was making progress, but I had to speak to Miss Ferrier, and having no phone number for her meant I had to go to her house. I wasted no time and went straight away. The problem was by the time I reached Fentham Road it was two p.m. and the street was full of activity. Children were running wild, dogs were barking loudly and running wild, and the music was even louder. I tucked my chin in and began to walk down the road but it wasn’t long before someone spotted me. I heard a girl shout. ‘There’s that boy from central.’
It felt as if everybody stopped what they were doing and started heading my way.
‘I’m not from central,’ I shouted.
‘Get him,’ shouted one boy.
So I ran straight ahead, but then I saw a group of kids that had spread themselves across the road to stop me. There was nowhere to go; I was going to get a kicking. Just then I heard someone call my name.
‘Jackson, Jackson, come here.’
It was Carla.
‘Hurry up. Come on.’
Her house was between me and the gang that was waiting ahead so I ran in there.
‘Thanks, Carla,’ I said gratefully. ‘What is it about this street, and why do they think that I come from central?’
Carla closed the door behind me. ‘Welcome back, Mr Jackson. It’s so good to see you again. I really don’t mind saving your life but I thought you learnt your lesson the last time you were down here.’
‘I’ve got some unfinished business.’
She pointed to the door. ‘They’ve got some unfinished business. It’s called you.’
We were still standing in the hallway.
‘But what’s this central thing?’ I asked.
‘They’ve this gang that hang around in town. Any time the kids from here go to town they get chased by them, so if they see a new face around here and they think they come from central they go for them. The problem is now they think any stranger is from central. What are you doing around here again anyway?’
I knew she wasn’t going to like my reply.
‘I’ve come to see Miss Ferrier.’
‘Who?’
‘Miss Ferrier. Lionel Ferrier’s mother, you know, at number thirty-five.’
Carla placed one hand firmly on her hip and pointed towards number thirty-five.
‘What, you’re going to see that weirdo down there, the murderer’s mum?’
‘I wouldn’t have put it that way but I think we’re taking about the same person.’
She turned and shouted upstairs.
‘Jason. Do you remember that nice young boy Jackson?’
‘Yeah,’ came the shout back. ‘I remember him, what about him?’
‘He’s here, and guess what, he’s going down the road to see the mad woman, the murderer’s mum.’
‘It’s none of your business, Carla,’ shouted Jason.
‘Ah, what do you know?’ she shouted back. She then opened the door and signalled me out. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you down.’
‘But you don’t like her,’ I said. ‘You call her a murderer’s mum and things like that, so why do you want to walk me down there?’
‘Because if I walk with you the kids will leave you alone, but I’m not staying with you. I think that woman’s evil, so you’re going to have to make yourown way out of here.’
I stepped out and she followed me. I felt quite secure as I walked down the road with her. No one attacked us physically but after a few metres we started to get the verbal. A girl who I recognised from my first trip down the street was the first. She walked behind us with a couple of her
‘I haven’t asked Miss Ferrier yet. I wanted to talk to you first, but I will talk to her today.’
‘Well, you do that, Jackson, and tell her I would be happy to meet her. What about your mum, what does she think about it?’
‘She’s cool,’ I replied. ‘She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea at first, a bit like you, but she said I should take responsibility for my own decisions. She’s that kind of a mum.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting her. She sounded really nice on the phone.’
I was making progress, but I had to speak to Miss Ferrier, and having no phone number for her meant I had to go to her house. I wasted no time and went straight away. The problem was by the time I reached Fentham Road it was two p.m. and the street was full of activity. Children were running wild, dogs were barking loudly and running wild, and the music was even louder. I tucked my chin in and began to walk down the road but it wasn’t long before someone spotted me. I heard a girl shout. ‘There’s that boy from central.’
It felt as if everybody stopped what they were doing and started heading my way.
‘I’m not from central,’ I shouted.
‘Get him,’ shouted one boy.
So I ran straight ahead, but then I saw a group of kids that had spread themselves across the road to stop me. There was nowhere to go; I was going to get a kicking. Just then I heard someone call my name.
‘Jackson, Jackson, come here.’
It was Carla.
‘Hurry up. Come on.’
Her house was between me and the gang that was waiting ahead so I ran in there.
‘Thanks, Carla,’ I said gratefully. ‘What is it about this street, and why do they think that I come from central?’
Carla closed the door behind me. ‘Welcome back, Mr Jackson. It’s so good to see you again. I really don’t mind saving your life but I thought you learnt your lesson the last time you were down here.’
‘I’ve got some unfinished business.’
She pointed to the door. ‘They’ve got some unfinished business. It’s called you.’
We were still standing in the hallway.
‘But what’s this central thing?’ I asked.
‘They’ve this gang that hang around in town. Any time the kids from here go to town they get chased by them, so if they see a new face around here and they think they come from central they go for them. The problem is now they think any stranger is from central. What are you doing around here again anyway?’
I knew she wasn’t going to like my reply.
‘I’ve come to see Miss Ferrier.’
‘Who?’
‘Miss Ferrier. Lionel Ferrier’s mother, you know, at number thirty-five.’
Carla placed one hand firmly on her hip and pointed towards number thirty-five.
‘What, you’re going to see that weirdo down there, the murderer’s mum?’
‘I wouldn’t have put it that way but I think we’re taking about the same person.’
She turned and shouted upstairs.
‘Jason. Do you remember that nice young boy Jackson?’
‘Yeah,’ came the shout back. ‘I remember him, what about him?’
‘He’s here, and guess what, he’s going down the road to see the mad woman, the murderer’s mum.’
‘It’s none of your business, Carla,’ shouted Jason.
‘Ah, what do you know?’ she shouted back. She then opened the door and signalled me out. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you down.’
‘But you don’t like her,’ I said. ‘You call her a murderer’s mum and things like that, so why do you want to walk me down there?’
‘Because if I walk with you the kids will leave you alone, but I’m not staying with you. I think that woman’s evil, so you’re going to have to make yourown way out of here.’
I stepped out and she followed me. I felt quite secure as I walked down the road with her. No one attacked us physically but after a few metres we started to get the verbal. A girl who I recognised from my first trip down the street was the first. She walked behind us with a couple of her
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